


Is there pity for the plain girl?

by Insecure_Idiot



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Brooke-centric, Self-Esteem Issues, THE TITLE IS A DODIE CLARK REFERENCE SHHH, but doesnt speak, chloe has a squip the tables have tabled, i hc chloe with freckles okAY, i love brooke so much i hurt her bc i love her, i promise i love pinkberry, im just sad okay, its almost 1 am shut up i suck, no other characters mentioned, squip! is here!, this is a literal joke and a vent im just s a d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecure_Idiot/pseuds/Insecure_Idiot
Summary: AU where Chloe has the SQUIP and wants to help out local nerd Brooke by offering her one.(It's OOC bc I wanted to try something new? I don't know? I didn't edit this, tear me apart y'all)





	Is there pity for the plain girl?

**Author's Note:**

> guys I'm literal actual shit this is the worst thing I've ever written 
> 
> if you want it to ever get happier validate me with comments telling me how much you hate me and need clarification and gay
> 
>  
> 
> or don't bc I suck its really up to you ily guys I'm awful (I hate me too don't hesitate to be mean)

“I don’t need your help.” 

Brooke let her eyes shift down to the floor, arms crossed, as she willed her voice to stay even. Her sweater envelops her body, stopping right above her knee, with the words “You imagine what you desire” in faded black letters printed on the front. Her leggings are in bad shape, the holes on her shins from falling down her driveway one too many times have been half heartedly stitched up, the thread very obviously not the correct shade of grey to even look halfway decent. She’s slightly out of breath, having speed walked to catch up with Chloe’s long strides. Strands of dirty blonde hair fall in front of her eyes as she shakes her head, determined to stand her ground.

“Are you  _ sure  _ about that?”

The words tumble past perfectly painted lips, Chloe’s scrutinizing glare never lessening. Her manicured nails are a bright red, very distinctly contrasting her slightly tanned skin and brown hair. She’s the very definition of beautiful, with her smooth skin being the canvas for an array of barely visible freckles. Her eyes, even when narrowed in disgust, are like breathtaking pools of blue, with speckles of green Brooke can only see if she’s really looking. Her outfit is put together so that it compliments every curve of her body. A sleek black dress that’s way too short to be in dress code hugs her hourglass figure, her heels allowing her to have significant height over Brooke. She’s asked a question, but her tone of voice and the glare she’s currently directing at Brooke makes Brooke feel like she has no other option but to comply. 

She knows if she opens her mouth to reply, Chloe will only end up persuading her into agreeing, so she clamps her mouth shut. Chloe uses her fingertips to guide Brooke’s chin upwards to meet her gaze.

“It’s a real shame, you know. There’s so much to be done here. An opportunity like this only comes once in a lifetime, Brooke. Think about it, okay? You have my number.”

With that, Chloe turns on her heel and walks away, hips swaying to music only she can hear, her heels clicking on the tile floor. For the rest of her free period, Chloe’s words repeat in Brooke’s head, “There’s so much to be done here.” until that’s all that occupies her mind. The final bell rings, but she doesn’t really hear it. She follows the flock of students leaving the classroom, her feet moving purely out of habit to her locker. Her motions are mechanic, grabbing all of her notebooks and shoving them haphazardly into her worn purple backpack with the broken zipper. She lets her eyes linger on the broken zipper, wondering if maybe she just got a new backpack that life would be a little easier. She shakes the notion out of her head and slings the bag over her shoulder.

The bus ride is noisy, but Brooke tunes them out in favor for looking out the window and delving deep into her thoughts. What would life be like if she was a little prettier? Does the way that you dress really dictate how likeable someone is? Would buying that weird drug Chloe mentioned really help her?  Questions flutter around her mind, but before she can over think her situation any longer, she’s at her stop. 

When she opens her door, she’s greeted to the familiar sound of her dog barking. She yells into an empty house, “Honey, I’m home!” and laughs dryly at her own joke. She pets her dog distractedly a few times, remembering to scratch behind his ears.

“At least you think I’m cool, right, Peaches?”

Her dog doesn’t answer, he just tilts his head and barks quietly. Brooke allows herself to smile slightly, before making her way to her bathroom. She peels off her two sizes too big sweater and throws it on the ground in a crumpled heap. She turns on some soft music to drown out her thoughts with, but quickly succumbs to daydreaming after a few minutes.

Her mind flashes back to the events of that morning, the usual noisiness of the school hallways surrounded Brooke as she scurried her way to her locker. The way she tripped over her own feet, too caught up in looking at Chloe flip her hair over her shoulder. She wondered how someone gets to be that perfect, but quickly shakes away the thought. Chloe caught her gaze and held eye contact for a few moments, which made Brooke’s face explode with color. 

“You’re so stupid, Brooke! You can’t just look at a hot girl like that, she’ll think you’re a creep! God, you’ve messed it all up.”

Brooke continued to mutter to herself while she fumbled with her lock, before being interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. Brooke snapped her head up to see Chloe looking down at her, a smile gracing her features. 

“Hey! How’s my favorite loser doing?”

Brooke didn’t know if that comment was supposed to be an insult or not, but the thought of her being Chloe’s favorite anything was enough to make her face flush once more. 

“Hi, um, Chloe. Can I help you?” 

Brooke’s voice cracked slightly, making her wince at her utter disability to be cool. Chloe stood next to her, silent for a few moments, face completely blank, before smiling again.

“No, but I think I can help  _ you _ .”

Before Brooke could have opened her mouth to reply, she was being dragged away to the girl’s bathroom. Chloe flung the door open, effectively clearing out the bathroom with her presence. She walked over to the mirror and checked her makeup, wiping away any eyeliner that may have smudged.

“I was like you once, you know. Geeky, a  _ total  _ loser. But I have just the thing to help you! A SQUIP!”

Brooke looked at Chloe quizzically, still unconvinced at the fact she could’ve ever been like her. Chloe practically radiated perfection, everything from her posture to her flawlessly applied makeup was precise and immaculate. 

" A  _ squid _ ?”

Chloe let out a low chuckle, before turning and placing her hands on Brooke’s shoulders. 

“No, silly. A SQUIP. It’s this supercomputer that looks like a tiny grey pill, you just swallow it with some Green Mountain Dew, and all your problems will start to disappear! It helps you act correctly and less like… you. You can buy it from me for the low, low price of 600 dollars! Now, I know that seems like a lot of money but I swear it’s worth it.”

After pinching herself on various parts of her forearm, Brooke became very aware that this was, in fact, not a dream, and the prettiest girl in school, a.k.a. Brooke’s not-so-secret crush, was actually offering her help with something. Even if this help involved some sort of weird drug, Brooke was flattered nonetheless. 

“Not, not that I don’t appreciate the offer but that sounds kind of sketchy. I don’t think I need some computer telling me how to act. Thank you though! For, um, thinking of me.”

Chloe let out a long exhale of annoyance, before moving to stand behind Brooke. She leant next to her ear, her lips inches from Brooke’s face.

“It’s up to you whether or not you want to stay like this forever. I just thought you’d appreciate the help. It seems to me like you really need it.” 

Brooke watched as Chloe started to walk away, her figure already disappearing out of the bathroom. Her legs stayed frozen for a few seconds, as she mulled over her options. She could either run and catch up with Chloe now and make it explicitly clear that she’s  _ not  _ interested, or she could stay in this bathroom for the rest of her free period and then make a mad dash for the buses to get home. Option two seemed pretty good to her, but as she thought more about it, she felt her feet involuntarily turn towards the door and move in the direction Chloe left. She didn’t know why she had to talk to Chloe again, something inside her just said that if she didn’t, she’d end up feeling even worse. 

Brooke’s train of thought was interrupted by her shampoo bottle falling to her bathroom floor. She cursed at the stream of freezing water hitting her body, wondering how long she had been day dreaming. She shook her head, but made no move to make the water any warmer. She had brought this upon herself, the least she could do is sit through it. 

When she steps out of her disappointingly cold shower, she purposely avoids the mirror, and looks down at all the makeup products she’s bought but never used in fear of using them incorrectly. Chloe’s words are still clear in her mind, as her eyes scan through the multitude of concealer and lipstick on the counter. Her saying that she “needs the help” and other phrases of ‘helpful tips to fit in’ people have given her flutter around her head as well, mixing into a concoction of self loathing and insecurity Brooke let herself wallow in. She allows herself to look in the mirror, trailing her eyes up the thighs that are too wide, the unshaven arms that are too manly, and the choppy blonde hair that’s too messy to be beautiful, up to meet her eyes. Her eyes are a light brown, a color she’s always despised, and seem to hold no depth. She smiles at her reflection, an empty gesture to prove to herself she’s okay, before glaring at her slightly crooked teeth and too full lips. Her smile drops, a frown quickly replacing it. Her skin is pale but not smooth, littered with acne and scars that Proactiv hasn’t healed. She brings her hand up to poke at her face, her sunken cheeks pairing well with the prominent bags that reside under her eyes. 

Her cell phone rests on the windowsill next to her shower, still softly playing a Pandora station she had forgotten she put on. She gives herself one last once over in the mirror, before turning and slowly grabbing her phone. Her fingers glide across the screen, dialing the number she’s embarrassed to say she already memorized. She brings the phone to her ear, with each ring slowly becoming more sure that this is something that has to be done. 

“Hello?”

Brooke takes a deep breath, and exhales audibly. She pushes all doubt to the back of her mind, letting her voice speak out with false confidence she hopes one day she won’t have to fake.

“Meet me at the local Pinkberry this weekend. I’ll have the money by then.”

Light, melodious laughter assaults Brooke’s ears, accompanied by the rustling of a bag. 

“You’re sure about this? If you’re not there, I’ll find someone else to give this to.”

Brooke runs her hands through her hair, hyper aware of how greasy it feels despite just having taken a shower.  She closes her eyes, and with no hesitation in her voice, gives her honest reply.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” 


End file.
